Carolyn sat by Jack, eating her dinner, and grinding discreetly in her seat, enjoying the way she felt. She was double-stuffed that day, vaginal and anal, and though she'd been numbed inside and out to prevent climax, the cream was wearing off.
Jack, beside her, offered a knowing smile. Carolyn shrugged, unconcerned, and watched as the older woman's smile faded into a pensive frown. “What gives?"
"It's that girl in the corner, Jennifer. She reminds me of someone…” Jack trailed off.
Carolyn took one look and had to laugh. “Yeah, Norma Jean. My God, the tutors must be in Heaven! How much would you bet she looks just like her when she comes?"
"Norma Jean? And, by the way, that's phrased wrong. It should be ‘what’ would you bet; we don't wager money here.” The lascivious grin left no doubt about what was wagered.
Carolyn felt a small thrill shiver through her just at the thought. There was a certain dream she'd had, once, where she was a flower … “Norma Jean. Better known to her admiring millions as Marilyn Monroe. The face isn't perfect, but the body is, and the lips. I can just imagine what my tutor would do with her.” She shivered again, jealousy and something darker turning, a strange desire to be the one to command this weeping girl.
For Jennifer was weeping, soundless but shaking, tears pouring from her eyes like streams in springtime, too full to be contained. Her shirt was wet, translucent, clinging softly, and Jack was not the only one in the room intent on the display.
"We could find out, you and I,” Jack said, barely more than a whisper. “If she does look like Marilyn then, I mean. When she comes."
"How?"
"How do you think, silly freshman?"
"But, that's not allowed!"
"So, ask yourself if the game is worth the candle.” A secretive small smile played over Jack's lips then, but Carolyn was too busy thinking to wonder what prompted it.
"If we did…” Her eyes glazed as she imagined the scene. Blinking at last, she saw Jack rising from the table.
"Well, come on, then."
Carolyn stood, and they walked to the corner, other students watching suspiciously. It was obvious that they were up to something. When they sat down by Jennifer, brows raised and whispers began.
Jack ignored them all. “Hi, Jennifer. I'm Jack; I'm a senior. This is Carolyn; she joined the same week you came here.” Carolyn added her greetings. Jennifer just nodded, not even sniffling though tears still flowed down her face. To Carolyn's darker desires a match was set: Her nose doesn't even redden when she cries.
There was no thought of obedience in her mind.
"Listen, some people just take longer to settle in than others. Don't give it a thought. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it here in just a few days.” Jennifer just blinked eyes starred ‘round by wet lashes. “It'll get easier soon; just give it a chance."
Carolyn felt no least impulse to be conciliatory. She wanted Jennifer to run screaming from the room. Partly so they could follow, partly just for the sight. “How do you get on with your tutor?"
It half-worked: Jennifer screamed. “Don't talk to me about that … pervert! The questions, the commands, the … beatings. My God, you're all insane!” Now she started sniveling, and Carolyn exulted. Trading a glance with Jack, she saw triumph there as well.
"Sh,” Jack offered, smiling gently at Jennifer all the while. “The bell's about to ring; let's get out of here. I know a place we can talk. A quiet room.” Jennifer nodded, and the three rushed out of the hall before any protest could be made.
Though the whispers continued.
By the time they reached their destination, Carolyn could barely contain herself. Simply watching Jennifer walk filled her with ideas-things she never would have thought before the Academy.
"Dear God, is this how the tutors feel about us?” Carolyn whimpered as Jack physically held her back. Jennifer was curled up on a couch in the corner of the room, seemingly unaware of the spotlight gilding her. Jack laughed softly, hugging Carolyn from behind, half caress and half containment until Carolyn regained her control.
It wasn't easy. Images of this modern Marilyn half-naked and subdued, not submissive but defeated, glowed before Carolyn's eyes. It had nothing in common with the feelings she'd had in the outside world, and little for what she felt with her tutor, or the various instructors. Even when she was in pain, she never felt any desire for revenge-but this woman she wanted to hurt. And force to enjoy that pain. “What's happening to me?"
"You're learning, silly freshman,” Jack purred into her ear, and followed her words with a half-gentle bite. Carolyn's eyes widened, but Jack gave her no time to truly wonder. “Good cop and bad, and you, my bad girl, had better be bad indeed. It's show time!” And she stepped forward, throwing her shoulders back, leading with her breasts.
Carolyn heard the murmurs of the other students as they crept into the darkened audience section. Poor Jennifer hadn't realized she'd been taken to a stage.
"It might help if you talk about it. We've been through it, too, you know. And maybe there's something we could do?"
"I just … I just want to go home. I didn't think it would be like this, you know?” Starred eyes wide and hopeful, she curled into Jack's offered arm, sobbing prettily. “I thought it'd be fun, like going to boarding school. Parties in the dorms, and dances, and the stuff the sorority girls do, but organized. It looked nice enough, all upper-class and shiny, but the teachers are all monsters and perverts! And I just want to get out of here."
Carolyn shook her hair back as she stalked onto the stage. For once, she wasn't embarrassed at the thought of the eyes upon her. Short skirt, sheer blouse, shiny shoes-who cared? She felt like a jungle cat, intent upon her prey.
Jack looked up with an inquiring raised eyebrow; Jennifer tried to hide behind the older woman. Carolyn smiled. “You did agree to be here, didn't you? The standard two years, like the rest of us?"
"Yes,” the sobbing, little-girl voice answered, “but I didn't know!"
"Didn't you? Really?” Carolyn loomed over the seated girl, admiring the heaving, jiggling breasts. Not lust, but something darker, moved in her. “You expect us to believe that you came through those gates, toured the hall, read ‘Your Place Is To Obey,’ and didn't know? Little girl, lie to yourself all you wish, but do not lie to us.” She was hissing by the end, her face inches from Jennifer's, watching the blood fade from her cheeks. She looked so fragile, so delicate. Carolyn was tempted to bite her, to watch her bleed. Red blood over that white skin; she shivered.
Jennifer said nothing, just cried her large crystal tears, clutching Jack as though the older woman were her only salvation. Above her head, her two tormentors shared a long, speaking glance; Jack hushed Jennifer, soothing her until she lay back on the couch.
"Listen, you have to know you're stuck here. You made the agreement.” She waited for the slight nod. “So why not try to make the best of it? You said something about sororities? Well, think of me as your sister. Is there anything I can do?"
Jennifer sniffed (delicately, Carolyn noted, and her lips pulling back from her teeth in a shockingly savage smile). “I don't, don't know. I just … everyone's so mean here. They all keep telling me to do things, and not do things, and I just want to feel good."
Carolyn had to step in. “I'm sure you do.” Jack winked at her, careful not to let Jennifer see. She lifted her chin almost imperceptibly, drawing Carolyn's attention to a form quietly entering the room. Candle, she mouthed, and shrugged.
"This is useless,” Carolyn grated, winking back, “she's not even bright enough to ask for what she wants.” She'd seen the form, too, but was too bound up in her need to care. Her tutor could watch with the rest; she'd worry later. Now there was Jennifer, starry-eyed and hopeful as she looked at Jack, timidly quailing when Carolyn glared.
"Anything,” Jack said again, “just tell me what."
"I would,” Jennifer rushed to say, “but I don't know! I've never,” she dropped her head, looked up, the very picture of a young woman desperate to be loved, “never, you know?"
Jack's eyes sparked. “Let me help you,” she husked, and pushed Jennifer back onto the couch. Smiling feraly, Carolyn moved to the back of the couch, waiting for the moment her tutor, or the man who had entered seconds later, would interrupt.
And while she waited, she enjoyed the view. Jack was very good at what she did, her hands and mouth drawing responses from Jennifer's body like a master playing a violin. The younger girl never lost her hesitation, even when moaning in pleasure, still somehow innocent. Jack looked like she was in heaven, her face buried in Jennifer's breasts, when the tutor stood. Without saying a word, he drew Carolyn's attention.
Easy enough; her body bent to his like a plant to the sun.
His hand signals were explicit, obscene, and impossible to misunderstand. She nodded, and he sat down to watch the show. Carolyn didn't understand how, but Jack seemed to have seen the commands as well. Her attentions moved lower, and Jennifer began to gasp.
"Oh. Ooh! Jack, I, I…"
Carolyn laughed softly. She even sounds like Marilyn. She sat down on the arm of the couch, surprised to see that Jack had four fingers inside the younger girl, thrusting fast and hard, thumb playing the clit. One last hard stroke and Jennifer came, cooing like a dove.
Jack looked up and nodded, eyes dancing with a pleasure Carolyn shared.
Looks like her, too. Damn!
Her fingers still curled inside, Jack murmured to the girl. “There, that's better, isn't it?"
My turn. “All that fuss, and for what? If you just listened to your tutor…"
Marilyn shook her head, eyes screwed shut. Tears crept free, soaking the couch. “I can't. I just can't. He's so mean!"
"Little girl,” Carolyn purred, “you know nothing about mean. Move over, Jack. You might hold her hands."
Later, she'd wonder what had happened to her, to make her so yearn to humiliate someone. Later, she'd ask herself if she was “turning gay,” or if it was just the aura of sex that permeated the place. Or if it was something particular to that girl. At the time, she thought nothing like that at all. Her tutor had looked at this woman with lust in his eyes; she'd seen it. And she couldn't even blame him; every man would. Every person. She'd been designed for sex, and she didn't seem to know it, and Carolyn yearned to teach her, as painfully as she could.
She moved between Jennifer's legs, gripped the thighs hard, and where Jack had been a butterfly, Carolyn became a bee. She thrust as hard as she could with her tongue, rubbed it like sandpaper over the tender flesh, scraped her teeth over the clit, pursed her lips and sucked, and when the girl was writhing helplessly, bit down.
She came, sobbing, begging, and Carolyn thrilled to hear the words. And when, seconds later, they were “discovered,” she went smiling to her fate. Jack winked at her, and she whispered back a single word: “candle."
The game had been worth whatever the cost.
* * * *
She thought that still, later, but her knees shook as she stood before her tutor's desk.
"Tell me,” he invited.
Carolyn shrugged, then sighed, and tried to explain. “She looks like Marilyn Monroe, every man's fantasy. Soft, and unaware, and yearning. And she's annoying, always screaming and crying like that."
"She hasn't been here all that long. Nor have you, freshman. The new ones are expected to cry a bit. Certainly you still do."
Carolyn flushed, but smiled nonetheless. Her tutor made a point of punishing her at least every third time they met; she expected to cry when she went to him. And to shake with fear and longing on the way in, longing and exhaustion and pain on the way out again. “I try not to give the others headaches,” she replied.
"So it was revenge?"
"No. Not so simple as that.” She looked away, shame rising higher now, and uncertainty. And a consciousness of her words, having just begun elocution lessons. “I think,” she tried to work out what she was feeling as she spoke, “I think I'm jealous of her. I see the way you look at her, like you wonder what she'd feel like bent over your knee. I wanted to hurt her for the way she makes you react."
"So you're jealous."
"Which is a transgression. But that's not all."
"You've transgressed in more ways than this? Do go on."
"I enjoyed it. What I, we did to her. Which is a transgression."
"It is indeed. Anything else?"
"Well, I don't suppose her tutor will appreciate our interference with his project."
"Indeed, no. Very well, then. Report tomorrow morning, first bell.” Carolyn rose to leave. “Oh, and Carolyn? Since you seem so very comfortable on stage these days, I'm sure walking back to your room naked but for your plugs won't bother you at all. Take the long way."
She blushed, hands shaking as she unbuttoned her blouse. Her nipples were crinkled and tight. Always.
* * * *
Carolyn closed her eyes, and composed herself for sleep. The double plugs always seemed to grow just before bed, larger still first thing in the morning; it was hard for her not to squeeze around them, though she knew where that would lead. But her tutor had a number of ingenious deterrents to keep her from coming; tonight she was sleeping naked, spread-eagled, in the corridor. She could probably still come, tightening her inner muscles around the plugs, but there was no way she could do it unobserved, with proctors walking the halls, making their rounds. So she had to endure, aroused as she'd been since she came to this place.
And wonder what new sensation the morning would bring.
* * * *
Her dreams were no match for the reality. Naked and freshly shaved, Carolyn and Jack were led by leashes to the dining hall. Jack wore a smile, Carolyn her usual blushes, as they followed their attendants to the stage. Carolyn's tutor made a pretty little speech, about the two “aspiring directors,” who had staged their own show without permission, and who would now serve a more useful purpose than “mere entertainment."
"They shall shine brighter than any movie star, provide enlightenment for us all!” He snapped his fingers, and the attendants raised a curtain, revealing a frame. It was obviously made for two.
Jack laughed, drawing all eyes to her. “Thank you, my master,” she whispered, and kneeled. Carolyn stared; she'd never realized who Jack's tutor was. And she had little idea of what was going on. What was the frame for, what happened when she was in it? What did he mean, enlightenment?
Master?
The tutor leaned in, kissed Jack's forehead, helped her to rise, and escorted her to the frame. Jack arranged herself with obvious familiarity, not even groaning as she stretched and strained. The attendants strapped her in, her limbs as far from one another as possible, back arched so that her head was nearly to her heels. And then they spun the cage, and helped Carolyn in.
When she was fastened tight, groaning from the pain, the attendants collected harnesses and strapped them around the prisoners’ waists. And then came candelabras, specially designed. Instead of bases, they ended in dildos, inserted with no ceremony at all; the waist straps held the frame a bit away from skin. Not too very far. Carolyn shivered as she saw the candlewicks so close to her breasts; squeaked high in her throat when the one in back was fastened on. More candles were placed at her hands and feet, knees and elbows, and around Jack's, of course. And then they all were lit, and the torment began.
It quickly became apparent that endurance would be key. The first time Carolyn shook, wax dripped from a candle, hit her thigh, and made her jump. That spilled more wax, which made her try to bend away, but that motion brought her breasts too close to flame.
And then the vibrations began, the dildos activated by some unseen switch. Gentle at first, then stronger, then undeniable. Carolyn held herself as still as she possibly could, the threat of burning motivation to resist. But orgasm called, and her body struggled to answer. She gave in at last, screaming as the wax fell, riding the pain to ecstasy.
On the other side of the frame, Jack danced her own climaxes. She hadn't even bothered to resist, her wax-splattered body writhing away.
The students ate their dinner to the shivering light, leaving for evening classes or study only after the last candle guttered out. Jack and Carolyn hung in the frame, panting, smiling. Exhausted, but not quite satisfied.
Their tutor had taught them too well for that.